LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



(L^jlL ELIZABETH OW) 
THE DISINHERITED DAUGHTER 

A Monument of Free Grace 

IN 

NEW ENGLAND 
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 



He that Ioveth father or mother more than me is not worthy 
cf me. — Matt, x, 37. 



BY 



E. BEN. EZ-E R 



PRINTED BV 

HUNT & EATON 
150 Fifth Avenue, New York 




Copyright, 1894, by 
MRS. ELIZABETH ARNOLD HITCHCOCK. 



PREFACE. 



HIS booklet is little more than acomrila- 



X tion. The materials were abundant for 
a much larger book. Elizabeth's divine ex- 
perience was so striking, so valuable to the cause 
of truth, that it has not been essentially 
abridged. But the results in biography, though 
well known to all who knew her, have been 
cut down to the smallest dimensions that 
would allow that brilliant experience to shine 
out. 

Elizabeth had a lifelong conviction that God 
required the publication of His remarkable 
dealings with her, and in her approach to the 
river of death solemnly enjoined it upon her 
youngest son and executor. His own convic- 
tions also agree with the requirement. Here 
are obvious reasons : 

i. The early history of Methodism has 
suffered by the dropping out of many striking 
illustrations of her power. By neglecting to 
record them permanently while well authenti- 




4 



Preface. 



cated, they are now beyond recovery. As this 
providential work moves on gloriously, making 
world-wide history, these few preserved inci- 
dents of her early triumph become more and 
more valuable by the lapse of time. 

2. Providentially this experience is too rare 
and too far back in American Methodism to be 
lost out. 

3. The controversy in which this experience 
was so strong a factor lias not become obsolete. 
The u horrible decrees" have indeed been 
very generally driven from the pulpit, but not 
entirely. Our work as polemics will not be 
finished until they leave the schools and the 
books, and cease to be pillows for the multi- 
tudes who lull themselves to slumber over the 
notion of "sovereign grace and waiting God's 
time/' and cease to goad despondent souls to 
despair, with the charge of being " from eternity 
passed by" as unredeemed " reprobates." 

E. Arnold. 

Thousand Island Park, 1893. 



CONTENTS. 

PART I. 

CHAPTER I. page 
That Strange Letter 9 

CHAPTER II. 
Elizabeth's Alienation from the Ancestral Faith 13 

CHAPTER III. 
That Alarming Message 21 

CHAPTER IV. 
Order Obeyed 24 

CHAPTER V. 
The Fiery Furnace 26 

CHAPTER VI. 
Great Victories 32 



Contents. 



PART II.— THE GREAT WORK OF LIFE. 

CHAPTER I. page 
Elizabeth as Mistress of the " Cottage Chapel". 42 

CHAPTER II. 
Religious Privileges and Enjoyments 47 

CHAPTER III. 

Elizabeth as an Evangelistic Laborer 49 

CHAPTER IV. 

Removal to a Wilderness Country 54 

CHAPTER V. 

Volney, Oswego County, New York 55 

CHAPTER VI. 
Hardships of the New Colony 59 

CHAPTER VII. 
The Quarterly Meetings 61 

CHAPTER VIII. 
Extends Her Labors 65 

CHAPTER IX. 
As a Camp Meeting Worker 73 



Contents. 7 

CHAPTER X. page 

'The Chamber on the Wall" 72 

CHAPTER XI. 

Mrs, Elizabeth Arnold as a Mother 78 

CHAPTER XII. 

Double Diligence. 81 



PART III.— RETIREMENT. 

CHAPTER I. 

Homes of Early Methodists 83 

CHAPTER II. 
Joshua Arnold 87 

CHAPTER III. 
Separation 93 

CHAPTER IV. 
Conclusion 97 



ELIZABETH, 



THE DISINHERITED DAUGHTER. 



PART I. 



CHAPTER I. 

THAT STRANGE LETTER. 

IT was in the latter part of the eighteenth 
century. The dwelling was a plain frame 
structure, spacious, and of the style of that day 
(the second story projecting a few inches be- 
yond the first), and was kept painted as white 
as snow. It stood in the south suburb of the 
then little city of Middletown, Conn., between 
two hills on the right bank of the Connecticut 
River, at the bend called "the Cove/' The 
first break in the happy family circle was made 
by the departure of a daughter to another 
State to engage in teaching. Few letters were 
written in those days, and the postal serv- 
ice was a slow and small concern. But this 



io Elizabeth y the Disinherited Daughter, 

absent school-teacher had written with much 
care and vivacity to the dear circle at home as 
regularly as the months came around. But 
now, for long, anxious weeks, no tidings from 
the absent one had reached that saddened home 
at the Cove. " Why don't we get a letter 
from Betsey?" was often asked by the fond 
parents, the loving sisters, and thoughtful lit- 
tle brothers ; but no satisfactory answer could 
be given. 

The father would hasten to the city as often 
as " mail day" returned and watch for the 
ponderous stagecoach, but come back more 
moderately, with a shadow upon his counte- 
nance, and " No letter! " " No letter! " would 
deepen the sorrow of the circle. One day the 
son " Siah " was sent, and in an unusually 
short time was seen coming over the hill with 
a speed so unlike a disappointed lad that the 
watchful mother was " sure the dear boy had 
tidings." Her lip trembled as she motioned 
to the father and called out, " Where's Es- 
ther? Where's Sam ? Call 'em all in. Siah's 
coming real fast ; I guess he's got a letter from 
Betsey! " " How he does ride ! " says Hannah. 
" Dear fellow, I most know he's got a letter ! " 
"Yis, yis," says little sharp-eyed Sam; "see, 
he holds suthin' white higher 'n his head." 



That Strange Letter. 



Sure enough, on comes the rider, flourish- 
ing in his hand the long-looked-for message 
from the absent one ! 

It was but the work of a moment for the ex- 
cited lad to leap upon the block, throw the 
bridle over the post, and run in, letter in hand, 
vociferating, Don't ye worry any more about 
Betsey ; she's all safe and sound. See, it's in 
her own handwrite." " Yis, daddy, and stuck 
together with that same red wax you gin her," 
says little Sam. 

Ruth breaks the seal and finds a large sheet, 
and closely written. A glance from the father 
brings the house to silence, and she begins to 
read. Never a letter began with more tender 
words or in a sweeter spirit ; but all sounds 
so precise and awfully solemn that the voice 
of the reader falters ; tears fill the eyes of the 
mother and sisters ; the father turns pale ; 
little Sam looks frightened and grips his 
mother's arm, while Josiah sobs aloud. But 
the resolute reader moves steadily on, and only 
breaks down when she reaches the name, 
" Your loving daughter and sister, Elizabeth 
Ward." 

These words stung that proud father to the 
quick. To hear his darling's name attached 
to such a letter, and find his cherished plans 



12 Elizabeth, the DisinJierited Daughter, 

thwarted forever, was more than he could en- 
dure. He arose in a paroxysm of wrath and 
left the house. The mother, watching him, 
became greatly alarmed, for she had never seen 
him so angry. 

As the boys lead the horse to the stable the 
girls take the letter to their room, where they 
weep much, pray some, and read over and over 
again that strange document. 



Elizabeths Alienation. 



13 



CHAPTER II.. 

ELIZABETH'S ALIENATION FROM THE ANCES- 
TRAL FAITH. 



1 \j six children. She had a tall, straight 
form, rather stern and dignified airs, a keen 
black eye, and a beautiful countenance, though 
rather on the masculine order. Her father, 
Samuel Ward, was a wealthy farmer and stock 
grower and a skillful horseman. He had de- 
termined to give this, his eldest daughter, a 
liberal education, and have her assist in the 
instruction of her sisters. She proved so easy 
to learn, and showed such aptitude and appli*. 
cation in study, that he afforded her the best 
opportunities given young ladies in New Eng- 
land at that day. And in his pride of horse- 
manship he took much pains to make her a 
skillful equestrienne, and never seemed prouder 
than when riding out with Elizabeth by his 
side upon an elegant steed in costly equipage. 
To carry out his notions for the perfection of 
her accomplishments, he sent her to Pittsfield, 




WARD was the eldest of 



14 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



Mass., among wealthy and cultured relatives, 
to devote a year or two to association with 
elegant society. And to avoid that horror 
of the real Yankee's dreams, u shiftlessness," 
she was to take up a small select school for 
employment. There too, as at home, she must 
have a splendid horse at her command, and no 
cost must be spared to make her equipage, as 
well as wardrobe, as elegant as the best. 
Morning and evening rides must be kept up 
for health and recreation, but not less to in- 
dulge a doting father's pride. 

She found her new situation very agreeable. 
Her relatives were educated and fashionable, 
and soon became very dear to her heart. Her 
school consisted of a suitable number of misses 
from wealthy families, as cheerful as the larks 
and as gay as butterflies. Her opulent friends 
very readily entered into her father's plans, and 
were especially delighted with her experience 
and skill in horsemanship ; and a sufficient 
number equipped and joined her in this health)' 
movement to insure her the best of company 
in her morning and evening rides. And her 
popularity as an equestrienne fed her pride, 
and her gay letters home were full of it, and 
very agreeable to her proud father. Nor did 
the rapid improvement of her associates in this 



Elizabeth's Alienation. 



15 



elegant accomplishment, under her teaching 
and example, escape the notice of their fond 
parents and of their townsmen, and " The way 
that tall schoolmarm rides is wonderful ! 
was spoken by many an observer, and many 
a young woman envied the proud troop " their 
chance to learn how to ride a-horseback." 

In the daily excursions of these gay cousins 
they sometimes passed, on a retired street, the 
meeting place of " a new and strange people 
called Methodists.'' Jesse Lee, George Rob- 
erts, Francis Asbury, and others, mighty men 
of God, had just gone over New England like 
a thundering legion, proclaiming everywhere 
a " free salvation for all, even for John Calvin's 
' reprobates. They had glorious success, 
even in cold New England, and of the fruit 
of the revivals which attended their labors 
formed many small but excellent " societies." 
One of these was established in Pittsfield. 

The sweet and moving singing of these peo- 
ple arrested the attention of our heroine and 
her friends as they occasionally rode by; and, 
pausing in their saddles to listen, enough of a 
tune would get into their heads and keep ring- 
ing there to turn their course that way again. 
Catching a charming tune, they " must get the 
words, at least a verse or two." So, from 



1 6 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

pausing outside to listen, they grew bolder, 
tied their horses, and civilly sat down inside, 
not only charmed with the songs, but curious 
to hear the fervent prayers and testimonies and 
occasional shouts of this bright-faced com- 
pany. When their friends said anything 
against this people as being " unpopular," or 
" despised," these young fashionables would 
sing them a Methodist verse or two, and per- 
haps join in the ridicule by mimicking their 
shouts. And yet in their sober judgment they 
honored these honest and devout worshipers 
for their fervent piety and zeal, and wondered 
at their rapturous joys. But they were quite 
mistaken in their confidence that an occasional 
attendance upon worship so spiritual was per- 
fectly safe. The Holy Spirit dwelt with this 
people. These gay young attendants became 
the subjects of mighty prayers and powerful 
exhortations. Bows, " drawn at a venture," 
threw arrows with great force. The Spirit 
directed one to the proud but honest heart of 
Elizabeth Ward, and she was " thoroughly 
awakened." Perhaps in the few prayer meet- 
ings these young people had dropped into 
within the past year they had imbibed more 
gospel truth than in all their former lives. 
But the songs which had so captivated them, 



Elizabeth's Alienation. 17 



many of which they had learned to sing, had 
struck those truths into the mind indelibly, 
and had so enlisted the moral nature of Eliza- 
beth that the Holy Ghost had written convict- 
ing impressions upon the inner tablet of her 
heart. She did not long resist this new " con- 
science cf sins." She clearly saw and deeply 
felt that she was a sinner, and on the way to 
ruin. In more of desperation than hope she 
set out to "flee from the wrath to come." 

In this state of alarm, she walked alone to 
the Methodist prayer meeting, made known 
her convictions and purposes, and sought in- 
struction and help. She returned from that 
meeting feeling that she had almost entered a 
new world. Gospel hope, now for the first 
time in her life, began to spring up in her 
heart. She had settled the question of sub- 
mission to her Maker, and began to seek Him 
with purpose of heart, resolved to confess and 
forsake her sins and seek pardon and peace in 
Jesus Christ. Still, as to several of the coun- 
sels of her new religious instructors she was 
undecided, because not yet convinced. They 
advised her to seek the Lord " by prayer and 
supplication." To "ask," to " knock," to "call 
upon Him," and especially to " cry unto the 

Lord with her voice." But she had been 
2 



1 8 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

taught from infancy that " none but the elect 
should pray ; nor even they until regenerated 
by sovereign grace ; " and that " no woman 
should pray or speak in a public assembly." 
But a heart overwhelmed with a crushing sense 
of sin at length broke out, almost against her 
decision, and cried, " God be merciful to me a 
sinner ! " and such hope of relief sprang up 
while she prayed as to settle the question of 
prayer ; and thence on for weeks all the relief 
she found was in prayer and confession ; a few 
crumbs of comfort to encourage her to perse- 
vere in seeking ; for she began to wonder why 
she had not found peace, when she had sought 
so long and tried to give up all for Christ. 

One day, in the retirement of her room, her 
mirror revealed a gayety of apparel that struck 
her as unsuitable for a poor, guilty sinner. The 
fashions of that day were very profuse in orna- 
mentation ; and as she saw herself in the glass, 
her eyes red and heavy with weeping, and yet 
her attire as gay and vain as if prepared for a 
ball, she felt sure that her mode of dress had 
all this time been a hindrance to her; and 
she then and there concluded to reduce all to 
plainness, much like the people who had led her 
to penitence. The pride of dress and equipage 
seemed now to be about the last idol to give up, 



Elizabeth 's Alienation. 



19 



and, all of her own counsel, she did the work 
very thoroughly; and as to her abundant jew- 
elry, the result of her spontaneous zeal was 
rather ludicrous. " Determined that it should 
never prove a snare to any other poor soul as it 
had to her," she passed it all under the hammer 
until there was nothing left but unseemly lumps 
of gold and silver; the precious stones were ut- 
terly demolished. 

From that work this hitherto gaudy maiden 
came out as plain as a Quakeress, and has- 
tened to the Methodist prayer meeting. See- 
ing her thus evidently taught of the Holy 
Spirit, they took hold of her case with new cour- 
age as she bowed with them crying for mercy. 
The prayers of the early Methodists were some- 
thing wonderful, and this broken-hearted pen- 
itent drank into their wrestling spirit. They 
claimed for her the " exceeding great and 
precious promises, " with mighty faith ; she 
claimed these promises with them. They took 
hold on Jesus; she put her hand with theirs 
into His with a strong and steady grip, and 
He accepted her. 

The conversion of Elizabeth was instan- 
taneous, and exceedingly clear and powerful, 
and its assurance overwhelming. Her long 
night was at once turned into day, and that 



2o Elizabeth^ the Disinherited Daughter. 



clear daylight was also a blaze of glory. Her 
joy was ecstatic. Her tall form, which had 
been gaudily adorned, but now attired for the 
meek and lowly Saviour, was at times prostrated 
by divine power, and her regenerated soul filled 
with the rapture of heaven. Night and day, 
for weeks, her only relief from ecstasy was 
by settling into solid peace, thus alternating 
from the quiet valley of u peace that passeth 
understanding " to the glory-crowned hilltops 
of "joy unspeakable." 

After a sufficient time had elapsed to demon- 
strate the genuineness and unfading glory of 
her experience, Elizabeth wrote home a plain 
account of it, concealing nothing. This was 
the astounding and alienating letter that so 
stirred up things at the Cove. 



That Alarming Message, 2 1 



CHAPTER III. 

THAT ALARMING MESSAGE. 
HE Wards, at the Cove, continued to be 



Had a note or a messenger announced her 
serious illness, or her elopement or sudden 
death, the first pang would have terminated 
in some sort of relief, or at least a breathing 
place ; but this letter was suffocating, and the 
dense fog seemed to grow darker as it stretched 
into the future. " A religious fanatic ! " " A 
Methodist lunatic!" " Has our darling set 
out upon such a life? " 

" I'm afraid it will kill your father; it struck 
him dumb. I can't draw him into any con- 
versation about her; and he is so angry!" 
Thus the troubled mother would talk and cry. 
The sisters and brothers listen to her, and, 
without comprehending " the prospect so 
awful in Betsey's future life," would keep dumb, 
like " daddy," and cry, like " mammy." 

Finding no relief at home, Mrs. Ward con- 
sulted their aged parson, " Priest Huntington," 




over Elizabeth's letter. 



22 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



and placed the ominous letter in his hands ; 
and he took the troublesome document home 
for professional analysis. It is not to be sup- 
posed that the Holy Spirit left this letter to 
pass through such a crucible alone. The ex- 
perience it told was substantially His work, 
and the hand that wrote it was not wholly 
without His guidance ; and now the cultured 
mind which examined it was that of a logical 
analyist, however strong his prejudice. The 
old parson was struck with its simplicity and 
soundness, and hastened to the Cove to " pro- 
nounce Miss Elizabeth's experience genuine, 
and even wonderful, " and that he believed 
her to be " one of God's chosen vessels to bear 
witness of His sovereign grace." 

So favorable an opinion from such an author- 
ity greatly relieved the apprehensions of the 
family ; all but the incensed father, who would 
neither talk nor allow others to talk to him 
about the absent one for several weeks. 

All these were not only precious weeks to 
Elizabeth, but lengthened out a most valuable 
epoch of her life. At length the wily parson 
succeeded in getting to the stormy heart of this 
enraged and unhappy father, and portrayed in 
glowing colors the clearness of Miss Elizabeth's 
"effectual call " and "blessed hope," and man. 



That Alarming Message. 2 3 

aged to bridge over u that awful slough of 
Methodism " by descanting gravely upon some 
of the " mysterious leadings of sovereign 
grace." " And now, if our dear lamb of the 
Saviour can be rescued from those deluded 
people and carefully instructed in i the doc- 
trines of grace/ what an ornament she would 
be to our church with such a brilliant experi- 
ence, and such ' a burning and shining light ! ' " 
Whether the hard heart of that father re- 
lented, or whether, weary of brooding over his 
disappointed hopes of a worldly sort, his pride 
saw prospect of indulgence in another direction, 
we leave it for subsequent events to determine. 
The kind parson was successful, and Elizabeth 
was soon ordered to return home. 



24 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



HE order to close up her school and re- 



J- turn home " did not disguise the anger of 
the father over the radical change in Elizabeth's 
religious condition and associations. But she 
had ever yielded unquestioning obedience to 
that father's commands; and so with all prac- 
ticable dispatch she now prepared to comply 
with the stern and precipitant demand. 

It was painful to be suddenly torn from her 
agreeable relatives in Pittsfield ; for, although 
she had departed far from their notions of doc- 
trine, dress, and usage, and fully adopted the 
principles and spirit of a new and despised 
people, they had never reproached her for 
her religion, but, deeply impressed with the 
genuineness of her experience and sweetness 
of her Christian spirit, had regarded and 
treated her with tenderness and respect. 

It was not easy to bid adieu to her pupils 
who clung to her with much affection. But 
it was the hardest parting from the church 



CHAPTER IV. 



ORDER OBEYED. 




Order Obeyed. 



which had led her to the Saviour. But here, 
too, grace triumphed, and she spoke rap- 
turously of meeting that dear people " where 
parting will be no more ; " and, catching, as 
if by divine suggestion, a strong presentiment, 
she declared her impression that even in this 
life they should enjoy each other's society 
again — " even in this blessed place, where my 
sins were forgiven and I have received such 
valuable lessons and enjoyed such glorious sea- 
sons of communion with God and His people. 
Pray for me ! " 

u We will continue to pray for you, dear sis- 
ter ; and we too hope that our heavenly Father 
may so order your lot that you may meet with 
us again in the place of your espousal to Christ ; 
but let us so live that we may all meet in 
glory." And then they broke forth into song : 

"Amen, amen, my soul replies ; 
I'm bound to meet you in the skies, 
And claim my mansion there ! " 



26 » Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



A—/ surprised her by its coolness and reserve, 
as if she were a stranger or a visitor. 

At once a happy thought struck her with 
great force : " If my religious profession puts 
such a distance between me and all my father's 
family, the throne of grace must, if possible, 
unite us." So, before retiring for the first 
night's rest, she asked and obtained authority 
to set up a family altar, and for some months 
at least one of that family enjoyed freedom of 
spirit and tenderness of heart. 

Parson Huntington visited her with much 
paternal kindness; and although, in presence 
of her joyous piety, he often seemed em- 
barrassed, yet he remained true to his first 
conclusion as to the " effectual character of her 
call and blessed hope." But the promised 
" teaching " found her a less tractable pupil 
than he had hoped and led the father to hope. 
She ever treated his instructions with profound 



CHAPTER V. 



THE FIERY FURNACE. 




reception at her father's 



The Fiery Furnace. 



27 



respect, but seemed to be a dull learner. Alas, 
that she was all the while imbibing more than 
they or she supposed ! Still, the predestinarian 
aliment did not set well on her palate, or nour- 
ish her young and tender graces of spirit. Her 
father sought to confine her to that sort of 
diet — at home, at church, everywhere ; for his 
only hope of rescuing her from Methodism 
seemed to center in a thorough course of Cal- 
vinian instruction, excluding with rigid surveil- 
lance everything Anninian. 

But she longed for the food her soul had fed 
upon with such relish and profit ; and, after 
a while, hearing that the little Methodist society 
of Middletown held noon class meetings, not 
far from the church which she was required to at- 
tend, she often managed to slip out during part 
of the intermission and go and commune with 
that humble few in class meeting. This fellow- 
ship, with a diligent attention to closet devo- 
tions and Scripture study, and conducting fam- 
ily worship, kept up a subdued but living piety. 

But at length her clandestine attendance of 
class meetings was discovered, and father and 
parson were highly indignant, for they saw their 
cherished hopes blasted, and, in their mortifica- 
tion, severer discipline was decided upon. " She 
must be closely v/atched and confined at home ; 



28 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

her favorite horse taken from her; her con- 
ducting of family worship suspended ; her 
familiarity with her sisters 99 (who somewhat 
sympathized with her) " much abridged." The 
kitchen maid was dismissed, and the tall, deli- 
cate Elizabeth was driven to the drudgery of 
kitchen and washroom, and ordered to " be 
quiet and diligent as a servant," under charge 
of having proved herself " unworthy of a 
daughter's place in the family ! " To this ser- 
vile toil Elizabeth submitted without a mur- 
mur, and patiently plodded on, her strong 
constitution and heroic courage and steady 
faith bearing her up. But the accusation of 
" ingratitude and disobedience " was so false 
and severe as to be very depressing to her 
spirits. And, never having been inured to 
hard labor or parental censure, these double 
tribulations were almost crushing; and to help 
her courage she kept up the low, almost in- 
audible hum of the sweet tunes she had so 
loved to sing among her chosen people, and, 
thus abstracted, toiled on week after week. 

Such patience proved provoking, especially 
as what could be detected of the tunes, in the 
snatches heard, indicated to her father's en- 
raged feelings a stubborn attachment to that 
people from whom he was trying to wean her; 



The Fiery Furnace, 



29 



so even this little comfort was sternly denied 
her; and, while strength ^yas gradually giving 
way under her heavy burdens, she was com- 
pelled to toil on in silence. Under all these 
sore trials not only her angry father but the 
evil one kept up the accusation of " stubborn 
disobedience/' 

At length she broke down under her burdens 
and troubles. Health, courage, and joy in the 
Lord gave way together. For the drill of 
Parson Huntington in Calvinian theology for 
nearly a year past now came up, enforced by 
the instructions of childhood, with fresh power ; 
and she began to suspect that she w r as one of 
the "ordained reprobates," "passed by and 
doomed from eternity to endless ruin ! " The 
whole system of " free grace," impartial atone- 
ment, and the Spirit's assurance, in the light 
and joy of which she had exulted for months 
in Pittsfield, and been so comforted in these 
subsequent months of hardship and false accu- 
sation, strangely faded before these childhood 
and recent instructions ; and gradually this 
pupil of Augustine and Calvin sank into the 
doctrinal abyss of the "horrible decrees." 
Nor would her broken and depressed spirits 
allow these sudden conclusions to affect her as 
abstract dogmas. They struck her, by Satanic 



30 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

power, like lightning, as terribly personal real- 
ities. "I, even I, Elizabeth Ward, have been 
awfully deceived ! I am one of the reprobates ! 
I have preferred my father's commands to 
God's favor ! I have committed the ' un- 
pardonable sin ! ' " 

How unaccountable is desponding unbe- 
lief! how ingenious and active under diabol- 
ical management ! The Holy Spirit quoted 
to this poor, despondent girl " the precious 
promises," but she " refused to be com- 
forted," and hastened to pass them all over 
to u the elect." He called to mind her 
rich experiences. They seemed to her far 
off in clouds of dim dreamland, and she called 
them a reprobate's delusions, "sent" on pur- 
pose to make her " believe a lie that she might 
be damned." He called her attention to the 
blessed word, to prayer and praise. She 
promptly swept all such observances away from 
reprobates to the ransomed u few," and, gnash- 
ing her teeth in anguish, sank to utter despair ! 

We will not attempt to describe a conscious 
reprobate, " passed by" and " ordained from 
eternity " to all eternity a lost soul ! Such was 
the dark, dank night that settled down upon 
Elizabeth as she sank under her burdens, her 
temptations, and cruel, wicked unbelief. 



The Fiery Furnace. 3 1 



In this dismal, hopeless " hell upon earth" 
she pined away for weeks and months, utterly 
shrinking from Bible reading, prayer, song, or 
religious conversation, and studiously guarding 
against religious reasoning, and even thought, 
as abominable for a " reprobate." 

It is not easy, in this age of religious liberty, 
to understand or apologize for such intolerance 
as Mr. Ward and Parson Huntington exhibited 
toward this innocent Methodist girl. But it 
should be remembered in charity : 

1. That that age was about a century nearer 
the long period of persecution than this. • 

2. That a stern and terrible system of re- 
ligious doctrines prevailed throughout New 
England at that day, not fruitful in charity, 
nor respectful toward any faith that differed 
from it. 

3. That Methodism was new there then, and 
generally misunderstood, and such of its fea- 
tures as were correctly read were intensely 
hated — even such as are now admired and re- 
vered. 

4. That parents, especially fathers, were then 
allowed by public opinion to hold more control 
over the consciences of their children, and vari- 
ations from ancestral faith, and even ancestral 
error, not so frequent as now. 



52 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



CHAPTER VI. 

GREAT VICTORIES. 
EVEN months of despair had now worn 



slowly away. This poor supposed " repro- 
bate " had all that time been buffeted by Satan 
without mercy. She had wasted to a skeleton. 
Her large, sharp eye had become heavy and 
lusterless, and her ruddy cheek pale and sunk- 
en, and every expression sad and hopeless; and 
the " enemy of all righteousness" got into a 
hurry to secure his prize, and brought all his 
arts to bear upon the suggestion of suicide ! 

Such a temptation aroused her to a sense of 
her real danger — no longer the victim of in- 
genious devices to harbor gloomy forebodings, 
but a wretched sinner, about to destroy soul 
and body in hell, on the verge of destruction 
to character and all good influences by an act 
of her own ! Desperately, in spite of her dread 
of prayer, she cried to God against that dread- 
ful temptation, and instantly she had full vic- 
tory over it. The eyes, long dried in the desert 
of despair, were moistened with tears of won- 




Great Victories. 



33 



der and gratitude. Astonished at such a clear 
answer to prayer, she prayed again for deliv- 
erance from Satan's power and all his enchant- 
ments, and they fled away like the shadow of 
a cloud. Her dungeon flamed with light, be- 
fore which the horrible decrees also vanished, 
falling into line,and following their author to the 
land of darkness, never to trouble her more. 

The light shone on, more and more; and al- 
though at dead of night, her room seemed to 
her to shine above the brightness of the sun 
at noonday ; and the doctrines of free grace 
seemed to flash about her with transcendent 
glory, until investing her entire being. She- 
knew she was not a reprobate ; for God had 
heard her desperate cry against that greatest 
of sins. She saw in God's own light the 
blessed assurance that Jesus died for her and 
for all ; and in driving away the enemy and 
the dense cloud of error, that had long 
shrouded her dungeon in Egyptian darkness, 
she clearly saw glorious demonstrations of di- 
vine clemency in store for her. She deplored 
her unbelief, and humbly sought forgiveness and 
full restoration; and there, and then, by faith 
in Jesus, she accepted Him again as her Saviour. 
Instantly her raptures returned, with more 

than their former power and glory, and she 

3 



34 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



went off into a perfect gale of ecstasy. Such 
sounds had never been heard in that man- 
sion before, and the family hastened to learn 
the cause. There lay the wasted form 
upon what they thought to be the bed of 
death. Her thin arms were stretched upward, 
and her pale hands came together with fre- 
quency and energy quite remarkable. Her 
countenance seemed lighted up with an un- 
earthly glow, and her words were ready and 
full of heavenly felicity, and uttered with a 
strength and sweetness of voice quite beyond 
her power. All these evidences, added to the 
fact that their tender and anxious questions 
remained unanswered, and their presence and 
weeping seemed entirely unnoticed, struck 
them as demonstrations that " the angels had 
come for poor, dear Betsey," and that in her 
triumphant flight from her cruel sufferings 
"she had already passed beyond them, and 
would never speak to them again/' 

After some time, however, she seemed to 
them to have been brought back by their lam- 
entations and self-accusations, and, hushing 
them to silent attention, she assured them that 
this was "not dying," but "living, and prepar- 
ing to live," by a return of her first love and a 
glorious victory over temptation and error. 



Great Victories. 



35 



From that blessed night her convalescence 
was much more rapid than anyone had thought 
possible. Peace of mind is a marvelous re- 
storer, especially when despondency has driven 
health away. 

On a beautiful morning, a few weeks after, 
Elizabeth was agreeably surprised by an un- 
expected announcement made at the door of 
her room. She had had remarkable liberty 
that morning in conducting family prayer, 
which by consent of her parents she resumed 
soon after her recent victory. Her father 
came to her door, and, in a voice which sounded 
so much like the good days gone by, announced 
his plan for " a short ride." Her own horse 
was at the block ; and as the strong arms of her 
father placed her in the saddle the noble beast 
gave signs of joy over her returning health. 

The* horseman by her side, in the ride of 
that and several following mornings, seemed 
agitated by conflicting emotions, yet making 
special efforts to be social and attentive. O, 
how she enjoyed those morning rides! Yet 
now and then she felt, though she could 
scarcely tell why, that a strange agitation em- 
barrassed her father's spirits. Was he trying 
to muster courage to acknowledge his wrong 
in persecuting her? Was he really ''under 



36 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



concern 99 for his own soul? or was he unhappy 
because she was not more gay and worldly? 
It was useless for her to conjecture ; he was a 
reticent man, and allowed no one to meddle 
with his thoughts. 

She had now nearly regained her usual 
strength, and the time drew near for her to at- 
tend church. One morning, after a pleasant 
ride of unusual length, drawing near home, 
the father broke out in tremulous tones : " Now, 
Betsey, you won't go with the Methodists any 
more, will you ? I can't allow it — no more at 
all. I command you to have nothing more to 
do with that people." 

They had reached the block, and the agitated 
girl hastened to her room, and most of the 
day and evening she was seeking the "wisdom 
that cometh from above." She easily settled 
all questions but one. She saw clearly what 
system of doctrines she must subscribe to and 
advocate and exemplify; what means of grace 
she needed and must have and honor by her 
attendance ; and she knew where her heart 
centered, and where her covenant vows must 
be taken and fellowship cultivated and en- 
joyed. All was plain as noonday except her 
father's commands and her duty to him. This 
last problem she laid before the Lord ; and no 



Great Victories. 



37 



sooner was it fully committed to him than the 
Holy Spirit quoted the filial duty with a pecul- 
iar emphasis to her heart : " Obey your parents 
in the Lord." u He that loveth father or mother 
more than Me is not worthy of Me." 

Her line of duty w r as now fully decided, cost 
what it might. Saturday morning they were 
again in their saddles, and side by side, begin- 
ning a long ride in silence. Elizabeth was de- 
sirous of telling her story and kindly explaining 
her views of duty, and, obtaining permission, 
she began at the beginning and rehearsed the 
dealings of God with her up to that hour. She 
then declared her filial affection and her readi- 
ness to obey implicitly in all matters where 
duty to God and conscience would permit. 
Finally, she appealed to her father " not to hin- 
der or embarrass her, seeing the Lord had so 
marvelously rescued her from the power of 
the enemy and snatched her from the very 
jaws of death and ruin/' 

All this time the stern man had kept silence. 
They were nearing home. He opened his 
mouth and firmly told her that he u should at 
once and finally disinherit her if she went to 
Methodist meeting again ! " 

No more was said. Elizabeth that day 
looked upon all the familiar objects about that 



3 8 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

dear old home of her childhood as no longer 
hers in any sense. Her pets ? especially her no- 
ble horse ; her home, in which she was born 
and reared ; the sick room, where she had suf- 
fered unutterable horrors and gained such me- 
morable victories ; her own dear room, where 
she was finally to spend that, her last night, as 
having any right there. She came, at last, late 
in the evening, to sweet slumbers in the " peace 
that passeth understanding/' 

Early Sunday morning she was plainly at- 
tired and slowly walking toward her beloved 
church, a plain chapel in a part of the city of 
Middletown near two miles from the Cove. 
There she feasted upon the word and publicly 
gave in her name as a probationer in the Meth- 
odist Episcopal Church. 

From that moment she was afloat — out on 
the broad sea of life, without a home ; a dis- 
owned, disinherited girl ! She left home this 
morning, a comfortable, stately, dear old home 
of wealth, elegance, and affection. She must 
not return to it to-night. She was but yesterday 
an heiress. To-day she is poor, a wanderer in 
the earth. But she has at last a church-home, 
and her life really begins to-day. Father and 
mother have cast her off for her religion, but 
lt the Lord hath taken her up." She is not 



Great Victories. 



39 



without friends. Several doors are open for 
her. Almost before she knows she is home- 
less she has resumed her work of teaching and 
has a delightful home in a Methodist family. 

Thus favorably situated for study, she takes 
up the doctrines of the Gospel as believed and 
taught by the Methodists, and makes rapid 
proficiency. Her pastor, one of the flaming 
heralds of early Methodism in New England, 
furnished her with the best of reading, and all 
her associates in the studies and active work 
of Zion wondered at the rapid progress of the 
disinherited girl. Little could they realize 
how vividly those doctrines shone in her heart 
as she came out of the " fiery furnace," and 
how intensely interested she now was in prin- 
ciples which had cost her so much, yet were 
worth, in her account, infinitely more, and 
well deserved to be studied and propagated. 

A young man belonging to the Methodists 
of that city now enters into our narrative. 
He is above the ordinary size, about twenty- 
eight years of age, and some four or five years 
before this was clearly converted under the 
preaching of Bishop Asbury. He also is a 
teacher, and a very sound, logical student of 
Methodist doctrines and usages. 

It is not many months before it is noticed 



40 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

that a mutual attachment seems to be springing 
up between this young man and Elizabeth, 
above the ordinary sympathies of teachers and 
church classmates. And as they had been ac- 
quainted from childhood, and fully understood 
each other's history and families, and were mem- 
bers together of a society of plain people, they 
did not consider a long courtship necessary. 
They were both of Yankee stock, both es- 
caping from Calvinism and ardently attached 
to Methodism, both studious and competent 
to teach, and loved to teach, and both were 
active workers in the church they ardently 
loved. 

So Joshua Arnold, aged twenty-nine, and 
Elizabeth Ward, aged twenty-one, were united 
in holy matrimony in the charming month of 
May, the last year of the eighteenth century. 
Thus closed the maiden life and homeless lone- 
liness of the disinherited daughter. 

She had been ruthlessly turned out of a 
stately mansion which she loved as her birth- 
place and childhood home, disinherited from 
her rightful heirship to several thousands, and 
disowned by her family, whose well-being she 
had faithfully labored to promote, and all 
for no fault of hers, but wholly for a matter of 
conscience and principle. 



Great Victories. 



4i 



But in less than a year she was settled in 
life in a home of which she was mistress, with 
a worthy husband, of church membership and 
affinities like her own, and in the free enjoy- 
ment of church privileges and holy fellowships, 
for which her persecuted soul had " panted as 
the hart panteth for the water brooks." 



42 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



PART II. 

THE GEE A T WORK OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER I. 

ELIZABETH AS MISTRESS OF THE " COTTAGE 



NE of the most natural consultations of 



\.J the newly married couple is the plan of 
their first house. How chatty and cheery a pair 
of newly mated birds appear, in counsel over 
their nest-building! This schoolmaster and 
mistress are home from their toil and care for 
the day, and are again devoting an evening to 
the scheme of their first dwelling. It is not a 
large or magnificent concern, but it has already- 
been neatly draughted, carefully considered, 
and builders' estimates footed up. All seems 
to be about right ; but Elizabeth has gone off 
into a brown study. Her countenance betrays 
unusual agitation, and her pensive eye is 
filled with tears. Her husband supposes she is 
thinking of the mansion from which she has 



CHAPEL. 




Mistress of the " Cottage Chapel. 43 



been spurned, as contrasted with the humble 
dwelling they are planning, but she hastens to 
correct the mistake and assure him that her 
musings were in the opposite direction entirely. 
"I was thinking of our dear people, and how 
much they need in this suburb of the town some 
place to hold meetings in. And this thought 
struck my mind almost like an inspiration : 
Why not extend our plan up high enough for 
an ' upper room ' for meetings ? " This notion, 
carefully considered, not only in these consul- 
tations but in the prayers that closed them, 
impressed them both as a divine suggestion. 
The house was built accordingly. An outside 
staircase gave access to the upper story, which 
was all finished off in a rough, cheap manner 
for a chapel, and immediately and for a few 
years was occupied by the Methodist people of 
the south part of Middletown and of the farms 
adjoining, for prayer meetings, class meetings, 
and occasional exhortation and preaching. 

Among the church privileges which had cost 
this disinherited daughter so dearly few ever 
equaled in sweet enjoyment this cottage chapel 
arrangement. She no longer had to steal 
away and snatch a few 7 minutes once or twice 
a month to associate with the advocates of 
free grace, as she once did, nor be shut entirely 



44 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

away from their beloved society, as for nearly a 
year, in that terrible season of persecution and 
despair. The church she loved came to her 
door. Her home echoed their prayers, songs, 
testimonies, and shouts. She lived, toiled, ate, 
and slept under the shadow of the hallowed 
u upper room," so often, like the one in Jerusa- 
lem, " filled with the Holy Ghost." She knew, 
as no one else could, how much such privileges 
had cost her, but still insisted that they never 
cost a tithe of what they were worth. Nor 
was the gratification of this ardent lover of 
Methodism the chief result of this chapel ar- 
rangement. There the Church found asylum 
from persecution ; and if we may estimate the 
value of such a refuge from the alarm of the 
enemy it must have proved a precious boon. 
Often were the pious band obliged to come 
early and lock themselves in to escape the 
fury of the mob, which would curse and mock 
without. But sometimes, unable to reach them 
or seriously to annoy them by their howlings, 
they would vent their spite upon the premises. 
Now it would be by breaking windows. Again, 
finding the windows guarded with thick board- 
blinds, they would tear down fences, fill the 
well with wood, etc. In several instances it 
came out in one way and another that some 



Mistress of the " Cottage Chapel" 45 



attendant of the " standing order " furnished 
the rum that stimulated the rabble to make 
these attempts to drive off these " deceivers 
of the last days, that should deceive the 
very elect." But " the more they afflicted 
them the more they multiplied and grew;" so 
that in a few years the place became u too 
strait for them." Even members of the mob 
of one meeting would be " awakened 99 while 
listening for something to mock, and scarcely 
able to restrain themselves, while with their 
comrades they would come early to the next 
meeting, get fastened in with the pious and 
the penitent, and, making humble confession, 
seek and find salvation, and become lively mem- 
bers of the church they had persecuted. 

Who can estimate the amount of good done 
in that " upper room " at the dawn of the nine- 
teenth century? " When God writeth up his 
people " of how many will it be counted, " This 
man was born there ? " Who can stand on the 
hill where once stood that unpretending home 
with a " meeting house " on the top of it, and 
look over to University Hill, crowned with 
those Methodist halls of science and art, and 
see no connection between the humble seed- 
sowing and the waving harvest ? 

Soon after the supersedure of this chapel loft 



46 Elizabeth^ the Disinherited Daughter. 



Mrs. Elizabeth began to reckon her work nearly 
done in Middletown ; and, a good offer being 
about that time made for their valuable situa- 
tion, she began to hope and pray for the ac- 
complishment of a cherished longing to live 
near the place of her spiritual birth. 

Mr. Arnold had followed two lines of busi- 
ness from his majority: Teaching through the 
long winters of New England, and coast trad- 
ing summers. He was brought up a farmer, but 
fancied that he had but little genius for that 
vocation. After his marriage and settlement 
he shortened up his summer sailing, giving him- 
self time during spring and autumn to cultivate, 
or at least plant and reap, his rich little place. 

With the growing cares of the family the 
wife and mother was desirous to " get him 
away from the water" and settle down upon a 
farm. As they pondered the question, and 
committed it in prayer to Him whom they 
trusted to "set the bounds of their habita- 
tions," they seemed to hear in gentle whis- 
pers, "Ye have compassed this mountain long 
enough ;" " Arise, for this is not your rest." 

So they concluded to sell out their first 
home, bid adieu to the beloved church at 
Middletown, and try to find a home some- 
where near Pittsfield, Mass. 



Religious Privileges and Enjoyments. 47 



CHAPTER II. 

RELIGIOUS PRIVILEGES AND ENJOYMENTS. 
PHE religious ecstasies experienced by 



A Elizabeth in Pittsfield during her young 
convert days had impressed her very deeply, 
and left a pleasant notion of a paradise upon 
earth. It was a sort of dreamy vision of the 
glory of Zion at her best. It had come to her 
many times in the intervening years with 
marked force. It was not the picture of wealth, 
or ease, or luxury, or any worldly good ; but 
the notion of a settlement near the place 
where she first found pardon and peace to her 
soul, and where she could enter again most 
heartily into those rich fellowships and raptur- 
ous enjoyments which she then found, height- 
ened and intensified by a deeper and broader 
experience, maturing now for near a decade. 

But Providence seems to have had other and 
higher designs, and evidently guided her course 
to the indulgence of these blissful fancies. In 
a short time they had purchased and settled 
upon a rich farm, of moderate size, upon the 




48 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



Housatonic River, in Lenox, near Pittsfield, 
Mass. 

Precious, indeed, were now her privileges. 
The word was ably preached and was a feast 
to her soul. Her church associates were all 
that she had desired, and much more numerous 
than she had expected, and they were living 
all around her. She was also near her beloved 
relatives, and that sacred place where she first 
found the Saviour, precious to her soul. 

" There is a spot to me more dear than native vale or moun- 
tain ; 

A spot for which affection's tear flows freely from its fountain. 
'Tis not where kindred souls abound, though that on earth is 
heaven, 

But where I first my Saviour found, and knew my sins for- 
given." 

She was greatly blessed in all these privileges. 
It seemed, indeed, " a heaven to go to heaven 
in." But still she found emotions of loneli- 
ness, at times, which she could not explain — 
an indefinite fear lest she become so filled and 
satisfied with these religious luxuries as to 
lose sight of stern diligence in the Master's 
work. 



Elizabeth as an Evangelistic Laborer, 49 



CHAPTER III. 

ELIZABETH AS AN EVANGELISTIC LABORER. 

REJOICING greatly with "the ninety 
and nine," the pious zeal of Elizabeth 
wept over " the lost sheep in the wilderness,"' 
and she longed to go out among the moun- 
tains as a personal coworker with the chief 
Shepherd and bring them to the fold. In 
fact, her ideal of the destitute regions she had. 
dreamed of was substantially answered by 
territory near her home, and providentially 
brought to her notice. 

On " Washington Mountain " were several] 
neighborhoods of irreligious settlers at the 
beginning of the nineteenth century. Ouir 
itinerant ministers had occasionally passed 
over the foothills and given off a message or 
two among these neglected inhabitants, but 
in the main they were destitute of Gospel 
truth and the means of grace. Elizabeth had 
not been more than a year or two in the ad- 
joining valley before she more clearly saw that 

evangelical labor, as well as religious priv- 
4 



50 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

ileges, had providentially called the family to 
their present location. 

True, she was a woman, and the Master had 
chosen 44 men to preach," and " women to 
guide the house," and win souls in a quiet 
manner. But she could attend faithfully to 
household affairs, and also do something as a 
private member to lead sinners to Jesus, even 
though miles away on the dark mountain ; for 
she was an expert rider, very spry and strong, 
and only thirty years of age, and had a fleet, 
easy horse that could climb those slopes and 
fly across those table-lands and be back home 
in a few hours. 

So, in the name and fear of the Lord, 
this cultured woman began among the rough 
settlers of Washington Mountain as a re- 
ligious visitor from house to house. At 
first her visits were between I P. M. and sun- 
set ; but as the people became awakened, and 
gathered in groups, requiring more exhorta- 
tion and wrestling prayer, she spent more 
time with them, frequently mounting her boy 
behind her for company, and always reaching 
home before she slept. Local preachers and 
exhorters followed up the work. The circuit 
preachers, by an occasional visit, gathered the 
lambs into folds, and thus the fields were cul- 



Elizabeth as an Evangelistic Laborer. 5 1 

tivated, while this pioneer woman searched 
out other destitute groups and introduced 
them to Gospel privileges and blessings. 

In this rapid riding and visiting, as a true 
shepherdess, hunting up the lost, she cautiously 
occupied mostly fair afternoons, and on an 
average, in moderate weather, only one or 
two afternoons a week. But in a few years 
even that amount of time, well employed, 
produced glorious results. Her work in this 
line was somewhat like that of a modern 
u Bible reader," only that it was much more 
rapid. What would her father have thought, 
when teaching his proud daughter horseman- 
ship, if he had been told what use she would 
make of it ? 

What a contrast between the riding done 
by this woman now, and a dozen years ago in 
the same county! In skill, and speed of move- 
ment, and grace of attitude she is much the 
same ; but how different her dress, her coun- 
tenance, her aims and hopes ! Her father then 
was proud of his darling; now, how mortified 
and angry would he be could he see her spring 
to her saddle and start off toward Washing- 
ton Mountain in search of souls ! " God seeth 
not as man seeth." Then he beheld the 
" proud afar off," but now " giveth grace to 



52 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

the humble," and crowneth her labors with 
divine approval and success, while he giveth 
to her heart the " peace that passeth under- 
standing," and the sweet promise that "they 
that turn many to righteousness shall shine as 
the stars forever and ever ! " 

What Mrs. Elizabeth did to save souls on 
the mountain was only in the line of ex- 
traordinary labors, and was not made an 
excuse for neglecting any of her ordinary 
church duties. As before observed, her visits 
being mainly in fair weather, and only once or 
twice a week, except in times of revival, she 
counted them as many people do one or two 
weekly recreations, not allowed to interfere with 
anything else. 

Indeed, they did not satisfy her own zeal for 
extraordinary work. She scattered some of the 
young people of the mountain among the 
Methodist families of Lenox and Pittsfield 
as domestic help, greatly to their advantage. 
She invited her church associates to her house 
for extra prayer meetings, for the special ben- 
efit of serious persons from the mountain and 
other neglected neighborhoods nearer her 
home, thus bringing them under strong reli- 
gious influences. Of course all the young 
laborers from the mountain, working for fam- 



Elizabeth as an Evangelistic Laborer. 53 



ilies not too far off, would want to attend such 
meetings and see their kindred, and their em- 
ployers would encourage them and lead them 
to faithful cross-bearing on such occasions. 

She even set up a private school for neglected 
children, and her church classmates put some 
of their own children into it "to help leaven 
it," as she suggested, and it became, in answer 
to their united prayers, a revival school. One 
family* who thus assisted her had two little 
boys converted in her school, right among the 
ragged, ignorant children, and they grew so 
strong in the work of these daily prayer meet- 
ings that one of themf became an able itin- 
erant minister, and the other,;}; in the wilderness 
to which both families subsequently moved, 
became a class leader, having for several years 
some of these same schoolmates (then, like 
himself, in midlife) in his class, and even Mr. 
and Mrs. Arnold themselves and several of 
their children ! So glorious are often the 
compensations of true zeal, even in " the life 
that now is." 

*That of Thomas Hubbard, 
f Rev. Elijah B. Hubbard. 
\ Jabez Hubbard. 



54 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



CHAPTER IV. 

REMOVAL TO A WILDERNESS COUNTRY. 

HOW mysterious are the leadings of Provi- 
dence! The most inviting scenes, the 
happiest state of society, the richest farm lands, 
the best educational facilities, sometimes fail 
to content even good people who live not to 
get rich, but to fulfill their mission in the service 
of their " generation by the will of God." 

The young man marked by the Redeemer 
for a Gospel herald is not the only sort of 
Christian who feels uneasy in the crowded 
nursery, and groans to be torn out and trans- 
planted on some bleak hillside where, shaken 
by fierce winds, his roots may strike deep, his 
branches spread wide, and he bear much fruit. 

Families have thus caught the emigrating 
spirit in sufficient numbers to form clans of 
pioneer evangelists, and torn themselves out of 
little Edens to found colonies in dreary moral 
deserts ; and as " the kingdom comes " with 
more rapid strides such single-eyed emigrations 
will become more frequent. 



Volncy, Ostvego County, New York. 55 



CHAPTER V. 

VOLNEY, OSWEGO COUNTY, NEW YORK. 



E are now suddenly introduced into a 



new country of heavy timber. The 



people have settled near together, and yet so 
thick are the woods, and so small the clearings, 
that nearly every family is alone, and cannot 
see out in any direction but by looking up 
toward heaven, a habit they learned before 
settling in these w 7 oods. 

It is a Massachusetts colony from Lenox, 
Pittsfielcl, and Washington Mountain. These 
people came here for two purposes: to "get 
land for their children," and to " take the new 
country for God and Methodism." "But the 
last object was first, and ever held its rank. 

As you call around upon these detached 
families you find them thoughtful, intelligent, 
and decidedly religious; although each family 
is alone in the woods, they are not very lone- 
some, for familiar sounds reach them almost 
every hour of the day. The deep-sounding cow 
bells, the dinner horns, the ring of the ax, and 




56 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



the thunder of the falling tree keep them in 
happy remembrance of their brethren and of 
their diligence and success, and often wake 
the anticipation of the coming Sabbath, when 
they will blend their songs and prayers around 
the mercy seat. 

And now the longed-for Sunday morning 
has dawned. The woodman's ax lies still, the 
dinner horn hangs upon its peg, and no treefall 
breaks the sacred silence. The half-burned 
" backlog " is buried in ashes on the broad 
stone hearth, and the door of each, log cabin is 
simply shut — it needs no lock— and" from every 
direction all the people are seen approaching 
a large log dwelling in a small clearing of cen- 
tral situation. It is the newest house in the 
settlement, as its occupants have been here 
only a few weeks. But they are well known in 
the colony, and have cordially " opened their 
doors" and "provided for the meetings." 

Joshua and Elizabeth Arnold are once more 
in their much-loved relation to Methodism, the 
master and mistress of the " cottage chapel." 
And now, as the meeting hour draws nigh, you 
see the people entering this little clearing by 
two or three footpaths and two highways, a 
few in wagons and sleds drawn by oxen, but 
mostly on foot. They are plainly but neatly 



Volney, Oswego County, New York. 57 



clad, and every requisite of becoming Sabbath 
decorum is plainly to be seen in both adults 
and children, and even in young men and 
misses. The family chairs are occupied by the 
aged and the ailing, while most of the people 
sit upon benches without backs. The singing 
is superior, both in the structure of the tunes 
and the fullness and sweetness of voice of most 
of the singers. Such tunes as China, Mear, 
Northfield, Windham, Exhortation, etc., set to 
our most solid hymns and sung with the under- 
standing and in the spirit, have never been ex- 
celled, and probably will not be in this world. 
The preaching also is excellent, and the hear 
ing corresponds. Tears are abundant, and 
responses neither scant nor misplaced, and 
impressions deep. 

At the close of the public service nearly all 
" remain for class meeting." The speaking 
is clear, direct, and candid ; the singing spon- 
taneous, brief, and spirited. When the class 
meeting closes, hand-shaking and shouts close 
the scene, and most of the people return im- 
mediately home. 

No tobacco smoke has polluted the air of 
the place. No gossip or worldly talk has pro- 
faned the sacred day. Such as by distance, 
feebleness, or any other cause would be likely 



58 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



to fail of coming back to the late afternoon or 
evening meeting are led, if possible, to remain 
and eat with the family. From half a dozen 
to a dozen usually accept of the cordial invita- 
tion, and find a strong evangelical influence in 
the very atmosphere of this place of worship. 

At the closing meeting in the latter part of 
the day some fruit usually appears from the 
personal labors bestowed upon guests between 
meetings; thus putting the divine seal upon 
the hospitality and influence of the cottage 
chapel. 

The picture of this day is substantially the 
description of the Sabbaths of years at this 
meeting place. 



Hardships of the New Colony. 59 



CHAPTER VI. 

HARDSHIPS OF THE NEW COLON V. 

IT is no small undertaking to reduce heavily 
timbered lands to farms, especially where 
there are few, if any, kinds of timber of any 
market value, as was the case in the Oswego 
wilderness subdued by this Massachusetts 
colony and others who settled in with and 
around about them. All the land had to be 
cleared twice, and much of it three times, of 
some tons per acre of incumbrances. First, the 
trees must be felled, cut up, rolled into heaps, 
and burned to ashes. Then the huge stumps 
must take a few years to decay, and then be 
torn out, piled up in heaps, and also burned. 
Last, but not always least in labor and cost, a 
burden of stones had to be drawn off* from por- 
tions of most of the farms and piled in heaps 
or wrought into walls, But our colonists were 
sober, diligent, and persevering, and under 
their cheerful toil the wilderness was reduced 
to fruitful fields. The temporary log houses 
and stables soon gave place to comfortable 



6o Elizabeth^ the Disinherited Daughter. 

buildings; and the " clearings " met as the 
woods disappeared before the ax. 

The log chapel dwelling, sacred though it 
was as God's house and heaven's gate, was one 
of -the first to disappear. A goodly frame house 
was just covered and its floors laid, but no 
partitions set up, when it was gloriously conse- 
crated by a most powerful quarterly meeting. 

This was in the summer of 1823. Rev. 
Goodwin Stoddard was the presiding elder, a 
mighty man when fully aroused. Sunday 
evening he preached in the new house during 
a fearful thunderstorm, and seemed girded 
like Elijah running before the chariot of the 
king. While Jehovah spake in the clouds, and 
for a long time the heavens seemed to be u a 
sheet of flame," He also spake by his servant, 
and the response from the people was in tears 
and sobs, groans and shouts; and at the con- 
clusion of nearly every sweep of the preacher's 
wonderful flights could be heard above the 
whole a shrill shout from the hostess, followed 
by a tornado of amens ! When the sermon 
closed the storm ceased, and the " slain of the 
Lord were many." Memorable night ! The 
people found neither slumber nor weariness, 
and when the morning dawned very few had 
not found a brighter dawn. 



The Quarterly Meetings. 



61 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE QUARTERLY MEETINGS. 

THESE meetings, held in the summer sea- 
son upon these premises for near a dozen 
years, were greatly enjoyed by Elizabeth and 
the family. The circuit was large, and most 
of its two or three dozen appointments would 
be represented at what they called the " quar- 
terly visitation." For two or three hours be- 
fore noon on Saturday the people were pouring 
in from all parts of the circuit, and some from 
adjoining circuits. Besides what would con- 
sent to sit down to dinner, " lunch " was freely 
distributed, which very few refused after a long 
ride or walk. This lunch business was very 
handy, and not unpopular. No plates were 
used ; the people in house or yard took in their 
hands the cold meats, biscuit, cheese, and 
doughnuts, while pans of milk and pails of 
water, provided with tin cups, were set con- 
veniently. After the Saturday sermon the 
preacher in charge distributed the guests 
among the hospitable homes of the society. 



62 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



But as the Quarterly Conference was yet to 
be held the local preachers, exhorters, stewards, 
. and class leaders, and usually their families, 
cither stayed there or, perhaps, a few of them, 
at the nearest neighbors'. 

However scattered during Saturday night 
and Sunday night, they had a rallying time at 
the place of meeting before starting for home 
Monday, when, by more or less delay, time wore 
on, and the u lunch " came around again. Fifty 
to a hundred meals, and two or more general 
lunches, were not remarkable at the cottage 
chapel; while for lodging, divided bedding and 
shawls scantily covered upon beds, benches, and 
floors, the women and children in the house, 
and a little new hay divided among the men 
and boys in the barn, made their rest some- 
what tolerable. 

At this distance of time and custom one 
would be sure that the hostess, after such a 
siege, would be worn down, nervous, and mel- 
ancholy ; but those who understood her best 
could have borne witness to a change of spirits, 
if any, in the opposite direction. As early as 
Monday on ordinary occasions, and Tuesday 
after the great quarterly visitation, the brick 
oven was sure to turn out its usual supplies for 
the family. 



The Quarterly Meetings. 



63 



Nor could the holding out of strength and 
spirits be credited principally to a good constitu- 
tion ; but while much was due to the pious joy 
with which she did all, more, perhaps, is to be 
laid to what her Yankee friends called " fac- 
ulty." Solomon's temple was not more accu- 
rately prepared than this housewife's arrange- 
ments for receiving and caring for her meeting 
guests. Nor was she less skillful in selecting 
and directing such youngerly women from 
among the guests as she needed for helpers 
and waiters. Her stock of aprons was marvel- 
ous, and the dispatch with which she equipped 
her corps and clothed their ruddy countenances 
in smiles was only equaled by the speed with 
which everything was finished in time for meet- 
ing call, and her "girls" and herself in their 
places in good time. And whatever woman in 
the meeting did not do her part of the praying, 
speaking, singing, and, on occasion, shouting 
too, that woman was not Elizabeth Arnold. 

When Zion's hospitable entertainers shall be 
acknowledged before assembled worlds, and all 
their liberality and painstaking in the spirit of 
their Master, who fed the multitude, shall be 
mentioned to his glory and their credit through 
his grace, will not the humble name of Eliza- 
beth Arnold be spoken with the honorable 



64 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



mention of that host of noble, patient toilers 
who fed the people, that they might thus de- 
tain them under the influence of Him who 
stood waiting to feed them with the bread of 
eternal life ? 



Extends Her Labors. 



65 



CHAPTER VIII. 

EXTENDS HER LABORS. 

AFTER about a dozen and a quarter years 
the Arnold place lost the meetings both 
of the circuit and of the society. 

The changes of business and travel left the 
place quite one side, and trie meetings had 
been gradually removed to more central and 
convenient locations. Mr. Arnold had been 
called by the church to hold meetings as an 
exhorter, and had sought out some destitute 
neighborhoods as his chosen field. It was 
natural and appropriate for his wife to accom- 
pany him. 

They were both good singers, and had sung 
together a third of a century. They were 
ready speakers and mighty in prayer, and in 
the quiet way of lay workers they went from 
house to house, and to a family in a place they 
presented the great salvation in conversation 
and psalm, and commended the people to God 
in prayer. 

It was not long before they collected in 
5 



66 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



congregations; and while the "licensed" ex- 
horter, who really " preached many things to 
the people in his exhortations,'' always led the 
meetings, the real exhorter followed with cut- 
ting appeals. This destitute region was thus 
visited occasionally for several years, and this 
couple had the honor of being its successful 
pioneers in Christian evangelism. In a central 
position has long stood a Methodist Episcopal 
church, and members of its society, fifty years 
after these humble labors, acknowledged them 
in the hearing of the writer as the means of 
their salvation. 

Elizabeth was now between fifty and sixty 
years of age, was no longer the nimble rider, 
but somewhat heavy and clumsy ; she preferred 
the carriage seat to the saddle, but still in her 
numerous visits to the sick and such as she 
could bless by religious calls she continued her 
old method, as being more independent. Many 
w r ondered at the ease and skill with w^hich a 
woman of her age and size would spring on 
and off and manage her horse. She would 
modestly reply, " My dear father taught me 
how, and I have always liked it." 

She early became a skillful nurse, and was 
for many years a diligent visitor of the sick, 
especially among the poor and the ignorant. 



Extends Her Labors. 



6 7 



Her saddle horns were hung with budgets of 
medicinal herbs and little comforts, and she 
would find out the sick and suffering, and ad- 
minister both to their physical and spiritual 
wants, and return to her household duties al- 
most before her family knew she had been 
gone. 

About this time a new field of labor was 
providentially opened to this Christian work- 
er. The Presbyterian and Baptist churches in 
that town began to employ " evangelists " to 
hold " revival meetings" of a new order; but 
when the people appeared to be thoughtful, 
and they got them into the " anxious meet- 
ings/' they found it almost impossible to get 
them to praying or the church to praying for 
them directly and earnestly, especially the sis- 
terhood of the Presbyterian church ; so the 
deacons and elders, in their strait, begged Mrs. 
Arnold to u come over into Macedonia and 
help." Much as she had suffered in her early 
religious life from predestinarianism, she never 
was a bigot, and so she, like Paul, " gathered 
assuredly" that the call was of the Lord, and 
i( without gainsaying" went and helped them 
publicly and from house to house as best she 
could. The result was that during the bal- 
ance of her active life she was urged into and 



68 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

did much of this inter-church work in their 
periodical revivals, and obviously with good 
effect. 

But, grateful as were these churches for such 
help, and encouraging to her heart as the fruit 
appeared, she ever labored in these Calvinistic 
associations under more or less embarrassment. 
To be at once true to her principles and true 
to interdenominational courtesy left her rather 
a narrow platform to work upon ; but, limited 
as it was, she would not transcend it in either 
direction. When, however, she could find re- 
vival work within reach among her own peo- 
ple she ever gave such calls the preference ; 
and from their arrival in the new country down 
to the retirement of infirm old age, more than 
a quarter of a century, " Sister Arnold' ' was 
known for many miles around as " an excellent 
revival laborer." 

Several allusions have been made in this 
narrative to her shouting ; but it should be 
understood that she was not in the habit of 
" shouting before getting out of the swamp." 
The order of her work was solemn, steady, 
earnest, and in mighty faith; but when the 
struggle was over, the victory gained, some- 
times that solemn countenance would become 
suddenly luminous and her shrill shouts would 



Extends Her Labors. 



6 9 



pierce the very heavens. These loud exulta- 
tions, however, were indulged in in no meet- 
ings but those of her own people, and grew 
less frequent as age crept on, giving place to 
tears of joy and whispers of praise. 



JO Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



HEN health and distance would per- 



V V mit, Mrs. Elizabeth could be depended 
upon as a tent holder and laborer at every 
camp meeting. She had a superior tent, and 
it was in its place and order from the first to 
the last hour. 

It was a little odd that Mr. Arnold had very 
little camp meeting zeal, when his wife had 
so much. He would go when entirely conven- 
ient, enjoy a few sermons and some pleasant 
conversations with friends, when he u must go 
home, see to things, and regain the rest he 
had lost." " Mother and the children were 
sufficient to see to the tent, and enjoyed such 
mode of life better than he did." 

With her the camp meeting was neither a 
place of recreation nor weariness. Its single 
object was to save souls. True to this pur- 
pose, she forecast for weeks to obtain as tent 
guests thoughtful persons of honorable char- 
acter whom she could bring and hold under 



CHAPTER IX. 



AS A CAMP MEETING WORKER. 




As a Camp Meeting Worker, 



71 



the influence of the meeting until they were 
converted. 

For one meeting a Presbyterian deacon, 
who lived in a neglected neighborhood, was 
induced to bring his children and near a 
dozen more, all young people nearly or quite 
grown, and stay through the meeting. Of 
course these guests would help stock the tent, 
and would feel bound in courtesy to attend 
the meetings of the tent as well as preach- 
ing at the stand, and the good deacon have 
to do his share in conducting these tent meet- 
ings. When the deacon returned home he 
carried with him a beautiful flock of the Sav- 
iour's lambs ; and while the most of his own 
children joined his church, several miles away, 
the rest of these lambs were gathered into a 
Methodist fold at their own schoolhouse, the 
nucleus of a church which now has a good 
church edifice and has long had a prosperous 
existence. It is worthy of remark that to this 
day this church is next neighbor to the one 
founded soon after upon the work of the ex- 
horters before alluded to. 



72 Elizabeth) the Disinfierited Daughter. 



HE active part of the married life of Josh- 



-A ua and Elizabeth Arnold was over forty 
years. During that period their house — as 
may be inferred from preceding pages — was 
the ever welcome home for the itinerant 
preacher. The presiding elder and the preacher 
in charge often met there to counsel together. 
The junior preacher, who was usually a single 
man, made it one of his homes, where he came 
to rest and study. The ^ best room," with 
its fireplace, bed, table, etc., was occupied more 
by the preachers than by all other company, 
and was known as " the preachers' room." 
Both circuit preachers frequently passed a 
night there together in their rounds ; but the 
senior, having a home somewhere, would speak 
of this as the junior's home, and of himself as 
" his guest," as well as the guest of the. family. 
Sometimes all three of the itinerants would 
meet there for days at a time. Such were sea- 
sons of great joy all around, and of some little 



CHAPTER X. 



THE CHAMBER OX THE WALL. 




" The Chamber on the Wall." 



73 



pleasantry, although cautiously indulged in in 
those days. 

On one such occasion, as the three preach- 
ers and the family were sitting around the 
large fireplace on a winter evening, and con- 
versation had about quieted to a lull, one of 
the elders hunched the junior, and with a 
significant wink suggested to him to ask coun- 
sel of Sister Arnold, who was busy sewing by 
the candle-stand. Now the said junior was a 
very promising boy of nineteen, but, withal, a 
little too boyish to quite suit the ideal of this 
grave woman. So while he stated the ques- 
tion she listened with her attention mostly upon 
her work. " Mother Arnold, I have, as our 
Discipline requires, counseled with these my 
seniors upon a very important question." 
She glances at him very slightly. " It is the 
question of marriage." Another glance, which 
is enough to wilt a boy of ordinary courage, 
and instantly her eye is on her work again. 
He rallies, however, and begins again : " I am 
advised by several to marry, and am thinking 
seriously of doing so. I now desire your ad- 
vice." Slowly her spectacles mount to her 
forehead, her keen black eye seems to look 
right through him, and she slowly and gravely 
replies, " Well, my advice is, that you wait 



74 Elizabeth) the Disinherited Daughter. 

until you get to be a man." The effect of 
such a shot may be better imagined than told ; 
not only there, but elsewhere, as long as he 
stayed on that circuit. He did wait, and in 
waiting made a more judicious choice, and one 
of the sons of that wise marriage is now one of 
our bishops. 

Severe as this sounds, it was a word in sea- 
son, and fully met the approval of the senior 
brethren, and of the junior himself, who greatly 
venerated her, and ran a very successful, al- 
though short, race, and left an excellent influ- 
ence behind him. 

Eternity alone will fully declare how valua- 
ble were the counsels of this " Aquila and Pris- 
cilla, " who in this itinerant's home took many 
a young " Apollos " and " expounded unto him 
the way of the Lord more perfectly." 

But while nothing Mr. and Mrs. Arnold did 
for the meetings at their home or anywhere 
excused them from personal activity in those 
meetings, no pains or expense in entertaining 
the preachers were ever a substitute for the 
regular support of the Gospel by prompt and 
liberal payment through the stewards. 

But beyond the regular u quarterage " they 
appreciated the need of " presents.' ' And 
probably, in the forty-two years of their active 



" The Chamber on the Wall!' 75 



business life together, seldom, if ever, did a 
Gospel minister make a pastoral visit at their 
home and go away without carrying with him 
some little token of the veneration and love 
there cherished for his holy office and work, or 
of remembrance of his lone family, so much of 
the time deprived of his presence, and of 
many delicacies which he had among his peo- 
ple far away. The " fatted carlf," lamb, or 
fowl would in many places be dressed for his 
feasting, while the family at home, in some in- 
ferior quarters, were having rather dry fare, if 
not scanty fare ; the thought of which would 
often mar the pleasure of his most sumptuous 
entertainments. 

Economical, not to say penurious, stewards de- 
manded an " account of everything given to the 
preachers ; " but Mrs. Arnold insisted that be- 
sides salary matters presents were needed, and 
it was the privilege of that house to give them 
at pleasure, and the left hand must not know 
what the right hand conferred. Often the 
minister himself knew nothing of it until some 
one of his family searched the box of his car- 
riage seat, which they were not slow to do 
when it came from certain parts of the circuit 
— some article of provision for the table, com- 
mon and plenty enough in the cellar or dairy 



y6 Elizabeth^ the Disinherited Daughter. 



of the farm, but not certain to be flush in the 
parsonage ; some tidbit or condiment to hu_ 
mor a delicate appetite ; some choice fruits or 
knickknacks for the children ; some material 
from the sheep or flax of the farm spun by her 
own diligent fingers to be made up in the 
lonely parsonage for the wife or children, or 
underwear for the man of God. When the 
minister's family was within reach of this very 
busy mother in Israel she would often relieve 
the loneliness, and sometimes the wants, ex- 
perienced in his " long rounds " by her visits 
to the sacred rooms, which in those early 
years of Methodism were oftener parts of some 
kind member's home than a regular u parson- 
age " or " rectory." So when the weary itiner- 
ant would return and find that his family had 
not been entirely neglected in his absence he 
would take new courage to pursue his toilsome 
way. 

As already intimated, Mrs. Arnold usually 
made the " junior preacher " of the circuit an ob- 
ject of motherly care. He was generally a single 
man in those early days, and often scarcely out 
of his boyhood. Many a worn garment was 
overhauled and repaired ; many a pair of new 
warm socks or mittens was laid with new un- 
derwear upon his pillow. 



" The Chamber on the Wall" 77 



Although for several weeks of the year he 
and his horse had made the Arnold place a pil- 
grim 's rest, never was a dollar paid the place 
for board, nor was the circuit permitted to 
charge him a farthing upon his salary for that 
or the presents he had received in that welcome 
home. 

The junior preacher seldom served the same 
circuit more than one year of his apprentice- 
ship. When he left this, his favorite home of 
rest, of study, and of repairs, the parting 
scene brought tears from all eyes ; and long did 
the echo of those loving adieus ring in all ears, 
especially as uttered by that matronly voice, 
" Do well, and farewell. God bless you ! " 



78 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Dauglitcr. 



CHAPTER XI. 



MRS. ELIZABETH ARNOLD AS A MOTHER. 



IGHT children were given to this pious 



1 \d couple — five sons and three daughters. 
Two of the daughters were recalled between 
the ages of two and four. Lovely and much 
loved, they were still resigned to Him who de- 
manded their return, and that, too, without a 
murmur. 

The remaining daughter and all the five 
sons were converted in the morning of life 
and joined the Church so dear to the parents, 
and the two younger sons became ministers of 
the same, and all the six lived to advanced 
age. The writer once overheard Mrs. Arnold 
answer the anxious inquiries of a young mother 
who had several little ones she was yearning to 
see early saved : " O, sister, it is all of the Lord. 
But it is true that He has wonderfully blessed 
our family altar, the visits of our dear ministers, 
and the meetings in our house for many years. 
And as you are a mother, and seem anxious to 
learn a mother's duty and privilege, I will 




Mrs. Elizabeth Arnold as a Mother. 79 



frankly give you my experience. I did not 
play much with our children, nor caress them 
much. I hadn't time, and I didn't wish them 
to be babies too long nor waste much of their 
precious morning of life in play. I did not 
flatter nor praise them very much. I was 
afraid of fostering pride. But I have instructed 
them in our glorious doctrines with diligence 
and all the skill I could command. But their 
early salvation and lifelong piety and useful- 
ness seemed to be laid on my heart by divine 
power, and the spirit of prayer for them was 
one of the abiding influences of the Holy 
Ghost. God had plainly answered my prayers 
for my brothers and sisters till they were all 
converted, and would not my heavenly Father 
answer my prayer for my own offspring? O, 
sister, it was no task for me to pray for my 
children. My life was in it. 

" When I fed them I prayed the Lord to 
give them the bread and the water of eternal 
life. When I took off their garments I asked 
the Lord to strip them of sin ; and as I 
clothed them, that He would clothe them with 
the garments of salvation. When I laid them 
down to sleep I prayed that they might be 
fully prepared for the bed of death, and to 
sleep at last in Christian graves. And when I 



So Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

took them up from their slumbers, how ear- 
nestly I prayed that they might have part in 
the resurrection of the just ! And, my dear 
young sister, I was not content with prayers 
for my children, nor with our family prayers 
with them ; but as they grew old enough I 
took each one to my own little prayer room 
with me, and poured out my soul for that one. 
And I seldom retired to my pillow until I 
had u tucked up " my sleeping little ones, given 
them a word of counsel, and offered a prayer 
for them ; and I had no trouble in getting their 
wakeful attention. I assure you, dear sister, 
that a Christian mother's advantage just here 
is very great. Don't let any hurry or weari- 
ness rob you of that hold upon the hearts of 
your children." 



Double Diligence. 



8 1 



CHAPTER XII. 

DOUBLE DILIGENCE. 

MRS. ELIZABETH ARNOLD was a 
very busy woman. During the forty-two 
years of her mature active life she could almost 
be said to have accomplished double work. 
Both her conscience and her nature seemed to 
be all alive to the rules of our Discipline: 
" Never be unemployed ; " " Never be triflingiy 
employed." Her large size, large brain, and pre- 
ponderance of bilious temperament seemed to 
call for much sleep and moderate motion. But 
her motions were quick and efficient, and her 
sleep could not have averaged over six hours in 
twenty-four. But eighteen hours a day could 
not satisfy her longing for " the improvement 
of her precious time." So she managed, when 
alone or not engaged in reading or conversa- 
tion, to keep up what at a little distance might 
be taken for mere humming, but what was 
really intelligent singing, simultaneous with 
the most active work of her hands. It might 
begin with a hymn, but would glide on beyond 
6 



82 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



into her own words of praise or prayer in im- 
promptu music. This free, original singing 
was the settled habit of her most driving bus- 
iness hours, and was not annoying to others. 
But how those black eyes would sparkle and 
those florid cheeks glow with heavenly light 
as her whole soul seemed absorbed in this 
spontaneous singing, while the work of her 
hands went briskly on, leaving in speed or fin- 
ish no mark of absence of mind or false mo- 
tion. 

But this was not her only method of dou- 
bling her diligence. Her experience and wis- 
dom brought her many inquirers after the 
truth, and demands upon her conversational 
powers were many and imperative. Yet those 
busy, provident hands, long acquainted w T ith 
needles, seemed to make them fly and click in 
about even race with the mind and the tongue. 
u Diligence in business," " singing with grace 
in the heart," and "conversation seasoned 
with grace" mingled in her methods of " re- 
deeming the time." 



Homes of Early Methodists, 83 



PART III. 

RETIREMENT, 
CHAPTER L 

HOMES OF EARLY METHODISTS. 
ROM the earthly point of observation 



-L how sad is the breaking up of Christian 
homes! The genuinely hospitable homes of 
the early Methodists were peculiar. There were 
elements in their hospitality which do not quite 
find their equal in our day. The old circuit 
system set everything in. motion. Not only 
were the " circuit riders 99 circulating every- 
where, but quarterly meetings, " two days' 
meetings,'' and even regular circuit preaching, 
whether on a week day or Sunday, stirred up 
the people. And as they were scattered in 
residence, and traveling was slow, every com- 
fortable, hospitable Methodist residence be- 
came not only a free stopping place, but a 
house of entertainment, where both soul and 
body found refreshment, and the one just as 




84 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

free and cordial as the other. The guest did 
not embarrass the host or hostess, for nothing 
but plain fare was expected ; and as to spirit- 
ual refreshment, he left a blessing behind him, 
and with rekindled joy went on his way re- 
joicing. So also it was when his turn came to 
entertain. 

The homes of the early Methodists, espe- 
cially in the country and in the rural villages, 
were much more permanent than in this day — 
not rented, but mostly owned by their occu- 
pants — and every year seemed to add to the 
sacredness of these hospitable old abodes. 
The trees, the watering trough, the well sweep, 
the plain old buildings, the very ground, 
seemed consecrated to God and his cause. 

But the kind host and hostess " have finished 
their course " and been called up higher. The 
honored old place is honorable no longer. The 
tenants or new owners, or, worse still, ungodly 
children, have desecrated everything. The old- 
time guests pass it with a sigh. The hill, the 
brook are there, but the aged horse looks in 
vain for the welcome open gate and watering 
place, and, drooping his head, walks slowly by 
in sadness. Ministers and church people tread 
that yard no more. The very ground seems 
backslidden. Sabbaths have fled. Prayers 



Homes of Early Methodists. 85 



and praises are no longer echoed. That light 
is put out, and " how great is that darkness ! " 

The time came for Joshua and Elizabeth to 
yield to infirmity, and retire from active life. 
The hard work of the new country told seri- 
ously upon even strong constitutions. Some 
of the members of their society older, and 
some even younger, than themselves had 
yielded and gone. 

For long, happy years they had kept up an 
establishment of an unusually hospitable order 
for even a cordial church and a free, social age. 
They had been more able, more willing, more 
zealous, and had more "faculty" for it. But- 
old age came on then earlier than now. The 
u threescore years " of which they had so 
long sung had already gone by. Their younger 
sons were away in the itinerant ministry. 
The old farm was too broad for their age and 
infirmities, and they found the order given to 
Daniel, " Go thou thy way : . . . . for thou shalt 
rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days " 
(Dan. xii, 13), appropriate to their condition, 
and allowed an elder son to remove them to 
town, under his care, and near church. In 
this retirement they enjoyed choice church 
privileges. Several of their old-time friends 
had collected in and near the place, among 



86 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



whom were a few of their old Massachusetts 
classmates and, above all, the aged and excellent 
local preacher* who was praying for Miss Eliza- 
beth Ward in Pittsfield when she was converted, 
and who had for so many years lived near the 
family and had preached in their house nearly 
or quite as much as all other ministers. He and 
his venerable companion had retired there, too, 
with one of their sons. 

But besides these retired neighbors, their 
retreat being but five miles from their old 
farm and whilom cottage chapel, several of 
the village residents had long been camp meet- 
ing and quarterly meeting associates. So, 
with a dutiful son and near-by church, this 
superannuated couple, surrounded by congenial 
society ? surrendered their beloved public life 
and sought an evening of rest, in which to ripen 
for heaven. 

Hardly could aged people be happier or more 
quiet and free from worldly care. The storms 
of life were past ; the crowd of business, the 
rush of labor, the study of complicated lines of 
duty — all these have gone by like a storm, and 
left a great calm. Still they find some little to 
do with what little strength they can com- 
mand and the limited income left them. 

* Rev. Thomas Hubbard. 



Joshua Arnold. 



87 



CHAPTER II. 

JOSHUA ARNOLD. 

NO life experience of Elizabeth would seem 
at all complete without a chapter giving 
a somewhat connected view of her companion, 
near a half century by her side, in her toils, 
liberality, and church work. Did she, when 
driven by persecution from her father's house, 
take up, under stress of calamity, an inferior 
associate for life? Let us see. If, as many 
claim, the wisest matches are founded on con- 
trast, this must have been par excellence. 
For if we except their large size and mutual en- 
dowment of sound common sense, there was 
very little natural similarity. In Connecticut 
the farms of the Arnolds and the Wards joined, 
and yet they were not intimate as families, for 
there was, for that day, too great disparity in 
property and style. Both were moral and in- 
telligent, but the large Arnold family on the 
hill, though in comfortable circumstances, did 
not train in the same " set 99 with the elegant 
establishment at the Cove. 



83 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 



Of the numerous family (of almost giant 
size) of Ebenezer and Anna Miller Arnold 
there were only two sons. Ebenezer, among the 
eldest, had the ancestral name, took to a mari- 
ner's life, was a few years a sea captain, and lies 
at the bottom of the ocean. Joshua was the 
youngest of the family, the almost idol of his 
parents, and of a house full of lusty sisters, 
who vied with one another which should teach 
him most and secure most of his confidence. 
So he lived on until nearly thirty a bachelor. 
Such opportunities as were afforded the com- 
mon farmers' boys of New England in the 
eighteenth century young Joshua diligently 
improved, and became a close student, and well 
qualified as a teacher of common schools of 
his day. His specialties were mathematics, 
penmanship, bookkeeping, business science and 
forms, and navigation. And he continued 
to do more or less in this profession until fifty 
years of age. He was converted among the 
first fruits of Methodist labors in that part of 
New England. 

Then, every Methodist studied closely into 
her doctrines, and this young man became 
qualified to state clearly, and ably defend, all 
that was peculiar to that Church. The cast of 
his mind was logical, candid, patient 1 he was 



Joshua Arnold, 



8 9 



never inclined to hasty conclusions. He loved 
to dig deep, collect strong evidence, and wait till 
conclusions were sound and inevitable. 

His brethren soon marked him for the minis- 
try, and so advised ; but, with his great modesty 
and high opinions of a divine call, he was not 
then, and never w r as, satisfied that he had such 
an essential individual commission. Without a 
full consciousness of duty in the line of that 
awful responsibility, this pious young man re- 
fused to look in that direction. He, however, 
cherished a high sense of the honor involved 
in the confidence of the Church, and felt im- 
pelled to lay himself out to do his best as a 
private member. 

Under the ministry of such able Methodist 
preachers as Asbury, Jesse Lee, and George 
Roberts, young Joshua had imbibed the main 
doctrines of theology, and set out in earnest to 
" search the Scriptures," both " for correction " 
if wrong, and for confirmation in the truth he 
had received and experienced. Thus fairly 
started on the King's highway of truth, he 
became profoundly interested in Bible study; 
and continued both the study and the intense 
love of it through life. He dug in this mine 
more than a third of a century without any 
human commentary, and found, to his great 



go Elizabeth^ the Disinherited Daughter. 

joy, that the poet had struck it : " God is his 
own interpreter, and He will make it plain.'' 
So diligently did he search for the " interpreta- 
tion of Scripture by Scripture/' that he largely 
learned the doctrinal Scriptures by heart, and 
also book, chapter, and verse ; and to family 
and friends he was " both concordance and 
commentary." 

Near the middle of his experience and bibli- 
cal research Mr. Arnold was urged, almost 
driven, to take license to exhort, and more 
publicly divulge some of the treasures of his 
years of study. He had thus " improved in 
public " (as exhorting was then called) but a 
year or two when his brethren, finding more of 
the expository than hortatory in his discourses, 
urged that his proper office was that of a local 
preacher. But to this he had two objections: 
lack of a distinct call, and a settled fear that 
the Church was growing too numerous a secu- 
lar ministry ; so he utterly refused. 

For the balance of his active life, as health 
and opportunity permitted, he " preached 
many things to the people in his exhortations," 
always laying for them a solid doctrinal founda- 
tion, and plentifully using Scripture language, 
both accurately quoted and wisely applied, and 
book and chapter usually given. His appoint- 



Joshua Arnold. 



9* 



ments for exhortation never lacked attendants 
or interest ; and when called, as he often was, to 
" supply the appointment " of a circuit preach- 
er, the substitute was not met with wry faces 
nor spoken of in frowns. Yet his highest ap- 
parent successes in speaking, if estimated by 
the excitement, were his brief speeches in love 
feast, not boisterous, but invariably stirring the 
deep of the heart of the meeting. 

Joshua Arnold's singing was no way superior 
in kind and had no marked defect, unless it 
was that time sometimes yielded to sentiment. 
But the amount of psalm singing done in a 
half century by this peaceful man was certainly 
marvelous. The leading of most of the hymns 
in the social meetings was a very small propor- 
tion of it. Whenever he found a psalm, a 
hymn, or a chorus that struck a chord in his 
devout heart he laid it carefully away in his 
retentive memory, and it was instantly called 
up when he wanted to sing it. 

But what was most noteworthy in his sing- 
ing was that his happy heart, and soft, sweet 
voice, and abundant store of pious psalmody 
kept him singing wherever and whenever he 
could with propriety. 

Mr. Arnold was the opposite of a business 
sharper. He was a moderate, patient toiler, 



g2 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

but traded no more than he was obliged to, 
and always with frank, honest words, and very 
few words. He hated extortion, avoided debt, 
and threw nothing away in interest or in law- 
suits, and was both careful and skillful in main- 
taining a good influence. Like his wife, he 
was economical and liberal ; and the Christian 
liberality of their home knew no bounds but 
the limit of their means ; nor was that limit 
dreaded, nor often, if ever, found, when it em- 
barrassed the case on hand. 

As Joshua Arnold was no ordinary man, 
so his personnel was rather peculiar: nearly 
six feet in height ; large, but not fat ; wore a 
shoe of size number twelve, and hat size seven 
and a half. His eye was blue, large, and mild ; 
forehead broad and high ; nose long and 
straight; lips long and thin; mouth and chin 
small and delicate; hair brown, fine, straight* 
and complexion florid. His motions were 
moderate, and temper very steady and mild. 



Separation. 



93 



CHAPTER III. 

SEPARATION. 

BUT this aged couple were to share 
their joys and sorrows in their retire- 
ment but a few years. Joshua was the first 
called away. He died in his seventy-seventh 
year, in peace with God and all men. Just 
before his speech failed one of his sons inquired 
how long he had been in the Methodist 
Episcopal Church. His answer came slowly 
but firmly: " Fifty-two years ago I said to this 
people, 'Whither thou goest, I will go; and 
where thou lodgest, I will lodge : thy people 
shall be my people, and thy God my God : 
where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be 
buried.' 

1 The word hath passed my lips, and I 
Shall with thy people live and die.' " 

And the good man had the desire of his 
heart. 

Elizabeth was now a widow, and had nearly 
reached her " threescore and ten years." She 



94 Elizabetli, the Disinherited Daughter, 

was not much bent with age, though " com- 
passed with infirmity." She still found some 
little to do among the sick, the poor, and the 
perishing, and was not gloomy or desponding 
in her loneliness. She wrote much to her 
scattered children, who were too distant to be 
seen often, and her letters breathed the spirit 
of heaven. 

When possible to attend the preaching 
of the word she was " not a forgetful hearer/ 1 
but kept up her old method of prayerful 
abstraction. She had during her whole 
religious life followed it. She would early 
enter the meeting ls if she saw no one and go 
solemnly to her seat, and either kneel or cover 
her face for a time, and thence on until the 
voice of the opening service aroused her would 
be absorbed in devotion. As long as able to 
attend, her voice was heard in prayer and class 
meetings; and many came to her room for 
counsel and help in their experience. 

It was marvelous to see what a change re- 
tirement and its quiet had wrought in the 
spirit and manner of this woman. The drive 
and hum of busy life were over; a heavenly 
calm had ensued — solemn, serene, peaceful — 
no agony of prayer, no ecstasy of spirit, no 
shouts of transport, no fiery trials. Her in- 



Patient Waiting. 



95 



firmities accumulate, but still she rejoices in 
sacred, hallowed peace. She becomes a crip- 
ple, almost confined to her bed, and continues 
so for years ; but her mind retains its strength 
and serenity, and her whole heart rejoices in 
God, her immovable Rock. 

The last decade or more of her life was 
marked as a continual feast upon the holy 
word of God. She learned what her blessed 
Saviour meant when he quoted and sanctioned 
that Scripture, " Man shall not live by bread 
alone, but by every word that proceedeth out 
of the mouth of God," and also, his promise 
that the Holy Comforter should quote to the 
faithful such passages of the w 7 ord they had 
studied as their circumstances might require. 

So every day, and usually oftener, the Lord 
would give her a " passage to feed upon," 
" day by day her daily bread." On the last 
day that she could speak her pastor's wife in- 
quired after her " passage for that day," and 
she instantly quoted Josh, i, 5, and Heb. xiii, 
5, " I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." 

Just before her speech failed her she called 
to her a daughter-in-law and gave her a minute 
account of her graveclothes, which had been 
ready for several years, and she found every- 
thing as she had described them. Thus, as " a 



g6 Elizabetli, the Disinherited Daughter. 

shock of corn fully ripe," she was at length 
gathered home. She died in Fulton, Oswego 
County, N. Y., in August, 1865, in the eighty- 
eighth year of her age, and in the seventieth 
year of her religious experience, and is buried 
by the side of her husband in Mount Adna 
Cemetery, where they together await the res- 
urrection of the just. 



Conclusion. 



97 



CHAPTER IV. 

CONCLUSION. 

THE " disinherited " Elizabeth was never 
restored to her rights and heirship as a 
daughter. As old age came upon that rigid 
father he partially relented and doled out a 
few hundreds to her where his other children 
had their thousands. 

He even sent to Massachusetts for her to 
visit him on his deathbed and counsel him 
concerning salvation, and pray with him ; and 
he indulged some hope under her prayers ; but 
he made no confession of his wrongs to her, 
nor amends for his injustice. 

Her two brothers and three sisters all credited 
their religious experience to God's blessing 
upon Elizabeth's prayers, counsels, and life ; 
but only one of them ever undertook to restore 
what the father had taken from Elizabeth's 
right and given to her, and she did not do it 
until she was about to die without issue. With 
one voice they freely condemned her disinher- 
itance and the persecutions she had had to 
7 



98 Elizabeth, the Disinherited Daughter. 

suffer. But when, their souls^being " ill at ease " 
under the remembrance of her wrongs, they 
spoke to her on the subject (for she would not 
introduce it), they would simply repeat, " Fa- 
ther so willed it, and you know, dear sister, 
that no one could ever turn him." 

All became church members, and so lived 
and died, but all in Calvinian communions; 
while all of Elizabeth's children became Meth- 
odists, and two of her sons, as we have seen, 
itinerant ministers. She and her pious hus- 
band, as before stated, were industrious, eco- 
nomical, and liberal, and Agar's prayer, " Give 
me neither poverty nor riches, " was their 
prayer, and with its answer they walked hap- 
pily and usefully through life, " serving their 
generation by the will of God," and passing in 
peace to their reward. 



THE END. 



